Remember when I was addicted to marijuana? Ah, innocence. Ah, bliss. You can smoke as much fucking weed as you want, and man, the worst that can happen is you fall asleep. That’s the shit. I love overdosing. Now that I’m addicted to amphetamine, I’m pretty worried. What about my heart? What about my arteries? I don’t want to die, especially not self-afflicted. Amphetamine is great though, it’s euphoric. And instead of getting tired, you get hyped. It’s like self-induced mania. I have suffered from manic depression and I can tell you, this is very akin to the periods of mania. I get very creative and can have an outpouring of creation. And the body feeling is divine, feel good all over. The only problem is that every time I take it I have to increase the dosage. This is dangerous. But, anyway, I’ve been taking it every few days, not every day. I don’t want to lose the effect. It sucks taking it and nothing happening.
It’s interesting that I sort of react the same way to being high on this as being high on weed. When I smoked weed, funk music (specifically Funkadelic and Parliament) was my favorite. Since I stopped smoking weed, I haven’t listened to funk at all. Now, everytime I am high on this shit, I listen to funk and nothing else. Maybe my body only knows how to be high like it’s high on weed. It’s reverting to its previous checkpoint. I know how to be high on weed only. I haven’t been high in so long. I really know what I’m missing out on now. I miss it. I can’t wait to trip. That will be so much fun, ah God. I’ll discover so much and be so dreamy. I’ll make sure to record my findings for future generations. I won’t be selfish about it at all.